Joanna Blythman reviews Le Petit Cochon in Glasgow

Joanna Blythman reviews Le Petit Cochon in Glasgow

LE Petit Cochon is just around the corner from Glasgow’s monumental Kelvingrove Galleries, and on a minor scale, it shares its proportions. Titanic sash windows, warm brick and stone walls, elaborate cornices, all these date its genesis in a richer, more optimistic architectural period where buildings were grand and built to last. Lofty spaciousness is such an uplifting luxury.

Le Petit Cochon used to be Off-Piste, but after a speedy refurbishment it has reinvented itself. The ski theme has melted away with the arrival of Spring, but it nevertheless shows steadfast gastronomic continuity: its heart still remains in warming Northern European food. This restaurant may be more of a wine bar these days, with an impressive 22 each red and white wines by the glass, and a new selection of small plates. But I’m happy to see that although it’s gone down the more flexible, casual food route up to a point, you can still come in here and have a proper meal. Eating here takes me back to visiting France as a child. The food here tastes prepared by a cook not a chef, someone with a much-thumbed copy of Elizabeth David’s French Provincial Cooking to hand, someone drawn to the cocooning delights of La Cuisine Bourgeoise. This type of cuisine really suits Scottish weather. Chilly Veganuary has left many of its early adopters somewhat jaded with avocado on toast washed down by a kale smoothie.

I’ve learned to be suspicious of soup in restaurants. In Anglo-American gastronomy it’s the chef’s Cinderella, neglected, abused, barely tolerated. Not the French, now they know how to make a good soup, such as this thick, creamy onion purée, its allium sweetness underpinned by the smoky, alcoholic depth and acidity of cider, and lent additional interest by a large, but thin, sage-scented crouton. This stomach-filling potage epitomises lusty mountain food. I could live without the deep-fried onion rings in crisp batter float on top of their crouton raft, more Glasgow than Haute Savoie, if you ask me.

There’s an artless clunkiness about the presentation of Le Petit Cochon’s rendition of goat’s cheese on toast. Gratinated crescents of bloomy white goat’s log, about one inch thick, are melted onto rugged sourdough toasts that sit, in turn, upon a generous pile up of crunchy green beans, pickled red onions, little oak and Cos leaves, and a sybaritic handful of fresh-tasting walnut halves that have been baked to make them endearingly toasty.

Either of these starters would fill you up for lunch, but make space for the sturdy duck confit and the boeuf Bourguignon. The duck might have been deep fried, rather than roasted or sautéed in a skillet. It’s a tad fatty, but this is not a cardinal fault. Here’s a repeat - more green beans and pickled onion- but there’s also gratin Dauphinois, which, although it could do with a more intrinsically interesting potato variety, is otherwise respectable. The beef stew honours its pedigree, robust home cooking, generous nuggets of meat that yield to the fork, thanks to their preliminary marinade in wine, a deep, damson-dark, mouth-filling gravy that’s textured by celery, onion. The pancetta that comes with the accompanying sautéed potatoes is addictively brittle and crisp; it’s just a shame, again, that the potato variety is just too nondescript to match the meat’s standard.

Apple strudel? Now that’s a risky proposition. Those words make me think of cold, vapid fruits, too many raisins, and that thin, wet, pastry that’s as elastic as cling film. But this one is strikingly different, buttery pastry, cracked on top like a lizard’s skin, only adheres enough to do the job of encasing soft fruit, plump soaked raisins, and a thin base of dumpling-like crumbs. So Le Petit Cochon subverts my negative view of this Germanic dessert. Lemon cheesecake provides that mouth-sticking fat and protein solidity that dairy lovers crave. For my palate it could be more lemony, but once again, it’s strewn with an abundant, even profligate handful of nuts (pistachios this time), and bathed in a fragrant liquid honey.

Le Petit Cochon doesn’t try to be refined or fancy, just wholehearted and honest. I respect that.

This website and associated newspapers adhere to the Independent Press Standards Organisation's Editors' Code of Practice. If you have a complaint about the editorial content which relates to inaccuracy or intrusion, then please contact the editor here. If you are dissatisfied with the response provided you can contact IPSO here